


A Lyrical Disaster

by Averia



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha Slade Wilson, M/M, Minor Dick Grayson/Roy Harper, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Overstimulation, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Averia/pseuds/Averia
Summary: Dick's desperation reaches new heights. Slade doesn't mind.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 117
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	A Lyrical Disaster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowwarbler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowwarbler/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Never Mind The Poetry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25687168) by [yellowwarbler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowwarbler/pseuds/yellowwarbler). 



> Cooper’s fic was a joy to read, and then I saw the below marked prompt, and my mind said yes. So, I wrote a little something inspired by the fic, or rather a whole ass could-be-continuation, lol.
> 
> Thank you for giving me permission to write this, Cooper!
> 
>  **Day 4: Same Dynamic Omegaverse** | Hands Free Orgasm | Identity Porn
> 
> PS: Dick isn't happy with being an Alpha in this. While it's not full-on dysphoria, I'm just gonna leave this here as a heads-up. See you again on Day 6. :)

He has never dared to approach another Alpha. It's not done. Neither is it the role Dick wants-- _needs_ to play. Slade approached him, recognized the anomaly Dick is, and tore into him the proper way. The Alpha way. The way Dick needed it to happen.

Slade is cold and demanding, just that side of rough Dick enjoys. Slade fucks the way he fights.

It’s that thought that makes Dick stop Roy before they have even truly started. His hand simply presses to the other Alpha's chest, barely any strength behind it. One of the many reasons why they aren’t working out. The chest isn't as broad as Dick is used to even though Roy has the right Alpha bulk. Roy can even be mean. (Roy has a beard that can shave Dick's skin.)

"Dick?" there is confusion in Roy's voice. (And isn't that just one more problem?) Too much uncertainty swims in the green eyes, and Dick feels his instincts react to the softness with a sneer.

"It's a bad idea," Dick replies, tense as Roy pushes against his hand and ultimately forces him to lie down properly by pure stubborn insistence instead of silent dominance or cold aggression. Roy towers over him, and it doesn't scream danger the way it should. The position doesn't make his cock swell, Roy doesn't make him submit. All Roy does is tickle his lurking irritation.

"Give it a chance." There is a command behind Roy's words, but it's flimsy, sets Dick's teeth on edge. It makes him want to be powerful instead of weak.

"What do you think I'm doing right now?" he hisses back, his hand has clawed into Roy's shirt before he knows it. His teeth are showing, head lightly raised from the pillow.

"Being a prissy Alpha for one," Roy snaps back, baring his teeth too. Dick's nostrils flare. Roy's eyes narrow. A hand cups his chin. It's harsher than any other touch Roy has used before, and Dick's heart skips a beat when his head is pressed against the pillow, cheek tightly pushed in. 

_Finally._

His lashes catch at the fabric uncomfortably. A thumb digs into his jaw to force his mouth open, and Dick closes his eyes with a little exhale, rolling his hips.

A growl resounds above him, throaty in a way that makes Dick gasp, and his hips jerk as his hand twists further into the fabric of Roy's shirt. His other finds the blanket, and Dick lets Roy dip his head down, closes his eyes, and pretends.

It nearly feels like Slade above him. Only if it were Slade, both of his hands would be twisted in the covers. If it were Slade, teeth would already prick into his skin. If it were Slade, there would be a hand around his swelling cock, a whisper in his ear speaking of his wrongness.

Teeth caress the side of his neck, induce a shiver, and Dick opens his eyes, stares at the door to Roy's room. A tongue swipes over his scent gland that should have him hot and bother, instead it's—it's so, so, so wrong.

_It's not enough._

Roy yelps as Dick pushes him off with a growl, his eyes still on the door. He ignores the call of his name as he steps outs of the room, only hears the door fall shut when he is halfway down the corridor already.

He rips his Nightwing suit out of the wardrobe and flees despite nearly not getting his half-hard cock beneath his cup. Stupid knot. Stupid Alpha body. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Dick rips more through the air than twirls, body too stiff, movements too powerful. It makes him feel so much like an Alpha that Dick has the urge to claw his skin right off. 

A roar rips out of his throat, vibrates painfully as he crashes more than lands on a rooftop of a multiple-story building. Breathing harder than he should after just a few minutes in the air, Dick tries to calm down as he walks paths across the roof. 

Eventually, he sits down at the edge, legs dangling. 

The skyline of New York stretches out in front of him, the Titans tower a burning presence to his left. Dick takes another breath, slowly letting it go.

His tension lingers. The subtle arousal is gone. With a sigh, he falls back, gazes up into the starlit sky. Roy will be mad for a few days. Hopefully, it won't mean he'll tell the others what they were about to do. The thought alone has his stomach in knots. ( _Ha!_ )

Dick curls onto his side, lips stretching desperately with the stupid joke. He blinks at the tower, nose scrunching. Roy didn't even try to stop him. There was no aggression, no demand. 

Why did he believe Roy could make it work? Roy charms pants off Omegas. He doesn't _rip_ them off.

It was a stupid idea. It was... Dick pushes up into a stand. He slips his phone out of his side pocket, scrolls through his recently called list until he reaches the right name.

He shouldn’t.

"Calling me now, are we?" Slade asks, mocking tone forcing Dick’s skin too tight in seconds. No words cross his lips, sewn shut by just five words. "Speak up."

Dick swallows, too off-kilter not to follow the demand. "Are you in New York?"

"No."

And Slade won't come to New York for someone that's just a convenient hole to fuck.

"Are you on a job?"

"I just finished, kid," is the gruff answer, "What is this? Twenty questions? Spit it out."

Dick lets out a tense breath. "Can I come to you?"

Momentarily, silence greets him, and Dick feels as if the building is starting to crumble beneath his feet, swallowing him up.

"I'll send you the coordinates," and with that, the call ends. Dick keeps the phone pressed to his ear - his gaze distant. It’s a mistake, but so is he, and he doesn’t regret it just as much as he does. As long as Slade doesn’t throw him away completely, their meetings are all he has.

He jerks as the phone buzzes against his ear. Nearly not daring to look, he draws down the pop-up message. It opens a map the second he clicks on it.

Slade is in Washington. Dick tries not to think about what kind of job might have brought him there. 

It takes him a little over an hour to get to the coordinates with the Nightglider, and as much as Dick questioned himself during the flight, all his apprehensions are brushed aside the second he arrives. 

The red M of the motel's red-glowing name flickers. Looks too cheap for Slade, which means Slade booked the low-end room just for his visit. It should make him feel dirty, but Dick doesn’t care.

With a deep breath out, he ventures inside, still in his Nightwing get up, only a jacket thrown over it and his mask removed.

The receptionist looks at him with his mouth agape.

"Wilson," Dick says, "Where."

The guy stammers, then fumbles to find the room, clearly a Beta unprepared to handle an irritated Alpha. Dick wants to tone it down and at the same time doesn't. It's better if people think he is visiting for a confrontation.

"Room 212, sir."

Dick throws out a thanks as he stalks up the stairs, still tense. He shouldn't be. It doesn't get him what he wants with Slade, and it doesn't make him feel like himself. Still, then tension stays. Frustration an anxious beast in his chest.

Slade opens the door after one simple knock. The single eye takes in his expression, the tightness of his jaw, then strays bored behind him.

"You're alone."

A hint of surprise swings with the words. A hint Dick wouldn't hear if not for all the times he has been grazed by the other Alpha’s presence. Dick has no time to consider the unexpected emotion when Slade rips him over the threshold with a hand twisted into his jacket.

Dick slams against the wooden door with a gasp, grows pliant when the larger, older Alpha lines their bodies up. A hand grips his jaw, presses the side of his head against the wood to expose the side of his neck. Slade takes a deep breath in, and Dick bites his lip, feels caught already, and tries not to hump up against Slade's crotch when more weight settles against him.

When it emerges, Slade's laugh is rough. The grin burning against his skin as sharp as a knife.

"So much for being a slut, Nightwing."

Dick's breath hitches, eyes widening even as a shudder descends.

"We didn't—"

"Obviously," Slade says, derisive, pulling back just far enough to sneer down at him. "You don't smell nearly enough of Harper."

Slade pulls him away from the door by a hand in his hair, makes him stumble into the man's chest. Dick greedily takes in his scent, head tilting so he can tuck his face against his neck. Absentmindedly, Dick realizes that he is harder than Roy ever got him. 

From a few words and proximity. 

Not a big shock to be honest. The thought nearly makes Dick laugh.

"I'm surprised Harper didn't know how to handle you," Slade comments, mouth formed into a near sneer as he notices how aroused Dick already is. The hand pressing against his crotch makes Dick wince, protective cup struggling against the super-human strength. The threat doesn’t deter his swelling erection. "It's so easy to rile you up, Grayson. There is nearly no fun in it."

Dick nuzzles against Slade's neck, doesn't try to scrape his teeth over the sensitive skin, no matter how much he wants to. Slade might just throw him out for real this time.

"Strip and get down on the bed," Slade demands as he pulls away, and Dick loses his jacket at once. He stops near the bed, pulling the zipper down his back, only to halt when Slade advances far sooner than expected.

"Then again," a hand brushes down the scar littered skin, fingers trailing over the curve of his ass to squeeze the flesh still hidden beneath his suit. Dick swallows thickly, cock insistently pressing against the hard-plastic Dick angrily stuffed it in. "That's enough. Didn't know some of your suits open at the back."

"Surprised that you don't know everything?"

Slade hums, squeezing his ass harshly but without malice as he pushes him down. "Hardly."

He goes with the motion, kneels like Slade likes him to, ass presented in a cheap imitation of what he craves to be. His spine is bent. His breathing is more elevated than it usually is. Normally, Slade isn't much for the waiting game.

Dick shudders when Slade breaths him in again, nose at his neck, hand in his hair keeping him down. Then the rough beard shaves across his spine, and Dick’s eyes close.

"He truly didn't touch you at all."

The words roll across his skin, and Dick nearly moans, hips rolling.

“Didn’t know how to.” 

A huff leaves Slade, and Dick knows it's coming but the finger pressing against his hole still surprises him. His breath hitches, back arching as Slade pushes it in. Dry.

“Does it hurt, Grayson?”

Dick groans, cock twitching. The threat, the slight burn. It’s good. It’s always good with Slade.

“Don’t you think it should hurt after what you have done?”

Dick shudders; wound tight. Slade wouldn’t but he could. And that’s what this is, isn’t it? His stupid craving for mercy.

A hit to his ass leaves him gasping, fingers digging into the meat of his ass, hand curling in his hair.

“Speak,” Slade snarls.

“I,” Dick breaths out as if he has been punched. He doesn’t know. And Slade sighs behind him, grip easing the slightest bit, and Dick knows disappointment in all its shapes and forms. Slade’s seems to soak into his skin, rattles his core.

“Harper did a number on you in an entirely different way, huh?”

Dick doesn’t know what Slade means, but the tension shifts with the words and Dick looks over his shoulder, just to fall back to smother a moan into the pillow that smells surprisingly good. Slicked fingers wiggle in his ass, and Dick rearranges his legs to present himself better. A yelp escaping when Slade hits his ass again.

“There’s the slut I know,” Slade growls, fucking into him. Dick gasps with the motions, cock already a pulsing heat obscenely swaying between his legs.

“Being a tense mess suits you even less than your normal pretend game, Grayson.”

Slade's teeth close around his throat mockingly, leave him gasping for breath, and he groans when a third finger is added.

"Sl _ah_ ," Dick stills as the teeth close tighter around his throat, a deep growl rising in Slade’s chest. 

“Alpha,” he moans, pushing back against the fingers slowly stretching his ass open. It leaves him short of breath, makes him shudder as he riles himself up. A mating bite between Alpha's has never been attempted. Professionals think it might lead to death. Dick's instincts don't fucking care as he chases his orgasm.

A thigh pushes beneath his own, the fingers slip out, and Dick groans as Slade pulls back, hand on his hip pinning him down. The tip of Slade’s cock touches his rim and then he goes near limp with the developing feeling of fullness that seems to weigh him down the second Slade sinks into him. The slow advance leaves Dick trembling, fingers curling into the blanket.

“Yeah,” Slade murmurs, a laugh in his voice, “That’s what you’ve been waiting for.”

The first thrust rocks him forward and then the fingers are back, biting into his skin, and Dick bites into the pillow, holding onto the blanket for the ride.

"Such a good slut," Slade taunts, ripping his head to the side. Dick blinks up at him, stomach swooping. Slade's gaze is cold, his lips slightly pulled up, revealing the edges of his teeth as he pounds into his ass. A slap has Dick rocking forward with a small cry. "Just not the kind of fuck an Alpha truly wants. Too inconvenient. Too dry."

Dick bites his lip, gasping when a hand squeezes his building knot, a low moan having him tense up. 

"You really think you deserve an Alpha’s cock, kid?" Slade mocks, close again, teeth graze against his neck, biting down to bruise his skin as Slade ruts into him, starting to catch, hand moving around his cock too. “A knot to come on?”

Dick lets out a low whine, clenching around the heat, desperately rocking back and forth on the thick length, meeting the thrusts, and sliding into the welcome hand.

“I—Yes,” Dick gasps, mewling when Slade’s wrist flexes and his hips size, arousal tangible as he comes far too soon. He pants into the pillow, blinking as Slade’s hand continues to milk him, another moan curling his tongue.

This isn’t what he came for. _What the heck?_

The next deep thrust rocks him, and Dick’s anger lodges in his throat, body arching up as he tries to escape the sudden sensation that is too much, makes his cock throb even more.

Slade growls against— _around_ his skin as the Alpha rocks into his clenching ass. A whimper escapes him, shudder caressing down the nape of his neck.

A hot tongue trails up the side of it. “Beg the way you always do.”

Dick nearly doesn’t get his mouth to form words, not with Slade’s teeth back to grazing against his skin, the strong fingers tightly curled around his swollen knot. 

“Beg,” Slade growls and that call to submit, has Dick jerking, sensitivity making him writhe.

“Please,” he gasps because, fuck, he actually wants this. “Please, Alpha. Your knot.” 

“Do better,” Slade commands, thrusts still cresting, forcing Dick’s lower body deeper into the mattress as the knot builds, beginning to catch against his rim. 

“I need your cum, Alpha. Need to be filled. I want to feel you for days,” Dick begs, moaning when the thrusts turn slower and deeper, knot pushing him out in ways that would have Dick coming again if he could. Instead, it makes him twitch and groan and shake beneath and around Slade. Slade’s grip only hardens around his knot, and Dick whimpers, tightening around him in response.

Slade stops, deep inside him, rim feeling stretched to the max as the warmth spreads deep in Dick’s belly. He relaxes to the sensation, floats to the pulsing of the cock inside him, and to the throbbing of the marks Slade has left on his skin. His orgasm doesn’t crest again but it nearly feels like it.

“Bastard,” he mumbles into the pillow, doesn’t really mean it. How could he?

Slade chuckles, holding him in place until Dick feels the strong thighs relax against his ass. Lazily, Slade pulls them onto their side, pelvis still flush against his ass. There is no hint of lube or cum escaping, and Dick gathers the blanket up with closed eyes.


End file.
